


Forced to Forget

by thenthekneehits



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: First Time, M/M, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Run-On Sentences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 10:40:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5001571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenthekneehits/pseuds/thenthekneehits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhett comes back with the vibrating toothbrush from <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q489KdYWrHc">GMM #779</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forced to Forget

**Author's Note:**

> **WARNING: CONSENT ISSUES**
> 
> A character tells another to stop touching him, but his plea is ignored and he is instead physically restrained. The touch itself isn't sexual by nature, but is viewed by the victim in that way. The character also feels a bit carried away by the situation, but his feelings and thoughts on the matter are explained in his perspective, and he enjoys the situation.

Rhett grabs hold of Link's shoulder and then lifts the toothbrush in the air, smirking. "You wanna?" he asks, but before Link has the time to say anything, the man is already pressing the vibrating bristles onto his face.

Link sputters, eyelids fluttering, and jerks his head back a little. His movement only causes Rhett to gravitate closer to him, to grab onto his shoulder tighter, fingers digging into bones. Rhett's laughing, his head bowing with the force of it when Link lets out a whine. His laughter makes him lose some of the strength in his arm, and the toothbrush wavers, the bristles rising from Link's skin to the point where he isn't sure if they're still touching him, feather-light, or if he only feels the ghost of their touch.

It feels good. Good in a way that makes you feel sick. You know that you should get away from it, but you also don't want it to end. It hits you deep where it really shouldn't, in places you can't quite comprehend — it's not your skin, not a sensitive hair, not an open wound, it's a strange, thin, microscopic little filament that connects right to a part in your brain, and it's ticklish in its alienness.

Rhett gathers himself and then presses harder again, and it all intensifies, and Link wants to shove the thing away and scrub his hand over the spot on his face, it feels so ticklish, but he knows that it wouldn't be able to fade the feeling away.

He's scrunching his face and his eyes are closed, but he can tell just from touch and sound, or maybe an innate feeling, that Rhett is having the time of his life. Rhett moves the brush away, skating it around the edges of that one nub — and it really is starting to feel like a nub, the space so sensitive that Link physically senses it as a raised surface — and the relief that Link is flooded with is almost more pleasurable than the main act. He lets out a cry, his mouth opening with the punch of his breath, and it causes his whole face to finally relax from its tensed state.

Rhett guffaws quietly, and the brush moves to tease the bridge of Link's nose, a funny feeling more than a pleasurable one. Rhett begins to guide him, his hand dropping lower down the back of his shoulder, a firm pressure against the meat of his shoulder blade, and Link takes two steps backwards. He opens his eyes and Rhett is looking down into his face, a manic smile on his lips, the one he gets when he's far too excited about something, cheeks curved like a doll's. Rhett's breathing heavy, winded from too much laughter, and like a dog hearing a bell, conditioned over the course of decades, Link's body responds in giggles. Rhett pushes him further back when he's weak from laughter, the brush off his skin, Rhett's hand sliding off of his body at the last moment, and then his back hits the wall.

His eyes feel cloudy, and his glasses are digging into the side of his nose and his forehead, propped up and tilted painfully. Rhett eases them off, sets them on top of the armchair, eyes never leaving Link's face.

After so long of a break, Link is beginning to feel in control of himself again. He asks Rhett what the man is doing. Rhett shrugs and gives a head tilt — "nothing much" is what he's trying to express. "It feels funny, and your face is _hilarious_ ," he explains. "Feels good, right?"

The toothbrush is still vibrating in Rhett's hand, like a threat or a promise.

Link doesn't know how to explain how it feels. This time Rhett's face melts gentle, the wrinkles around his eyes making them soft and familiar, and the base of Link's throat warms with the idea of _friend_ as Rhett lifts the brush again. His eyes pinch a little with his focus, the man intent on doing it right.

Link has the brief thought of asking him _why_ , but he lets it dissipate.

The brush is back on him, moving in tiny circles, and Link's nose scrunches at the tickle. He wiggles it from side to side in another attempt at relieving the feeling, but it does nothing because Rhett is insistent. Link's sensitive skin never quite got the chance to completely settle and subside, and so the feeling of the vibrations is both familiar and new.

Rhett keeps the brush still, then, settled on the one spot like an unmovable object — which it may as well have been, because Link saw no way in which he could have caused it to move. And it is then that the connection spreads, flies within that tiny fiber all the way to a place it shouldn't be allowed to reach, and when it does reach, it's dozens of sparks igniting and quenching, Link isn't sure where, maybe at his face, maybe his stomach, maybe his throat, but they tingle and they burn in those small spaces, and more than anything else it feels _wrong_ , but Link's never felt so good — he whines quietly, at such a high note it feels nigh-nonexistent, and the sound keeps going until his sob, from lack of breath, breaks it.

"Stop, stop," he manages to tell Rhett, his voice garbled, but he gets it out. Rhett laughs, and he still sounds gentle, like the way he laughs when Link stares at him for a long time and smiles over something that makes no sense.

Link's eyes are closed, so he doesn't see Rhett's expression, but when Link manages to jerk his body forward a little, not as stuck to the wall, Rhett's forearm becomes a pressure at his chest, caging him. Then his body follows, and Link can feel just how hard he's breathing, and it should confuse him, except it doesn't. He can sense Rhett's shoulders close, so he lifts the arms he thought were useless about a second ago, and it's as though they have a mind of their own, one that only deems it possible for their remaining strength to be spent on Link grasping Rhett's shoulders, high up and wide, and he doesn't grasp them to shove, he grasps to pull, to claw into and to beg them to ground him.

Rhett's thigh slides close, and Link's stomach flips in a sickening, deep movement, because he fights so hard, but he doesn't want to, he wants to give in, and every second he has less strength to keep going. He wants to be drained, to be left so raw that he can never say he had a choice, to feel like his body just betrayed him — yet he knows that that's not possible, that all of this is in his head, that that is why it feels so _good_ , so right and so warm and so _Rhett_ , despite it being a silly thing like a toothbrush, because it was never physical, it was always the idea of _Rhett, Rhett_ , and the weight on him is Rhett, and he wants the vibrations gone so that he can bury his face into the rough relief of the fabric of Rhett's t-shirt, to lose all the specialty of the situation that is somehow allowing them to do this, so that they'd do what's not allowed, and Link would _climb_ onto that thigh and melt himself into Rhett like nothing else matters.

He moans Rhett's name, feels horrible about it, then even so lets Rhett push his thigh deep, against the wall, with joy and relief, and there's no hiding anything, no filing things away as imagination, because the entire length of Link's hard cock is pressed against the muscle there, and so Link lets himself move.

It's too much, the break of it all, of ages and years, the small cracks spreading into each other and breaking everything down, both a metaphorical wall and Link's physical body, it feels like. His cheek is so raw, his nose so itchy, his skin so taut and thin, the bristles of the toothbrush feel like rough steel. He twitches, shudders, chills that are hot more than cold running up his back, arching it, closer into Rhett, and he realizes he is screaming, but he can't stop it, long, long sounds flooding out of him with more force than his actual release, one after the other.

When they stop, he cries. Rhett turns off the toothbrush, throws it somewhere, then rests his nose next to Link's, right on that spot, and it's warm, and it's smooth and soft skin, relieving.

Rhett is careful not to rub, staying very still. Link's tears wet his cheek and trail down the length of Rhett's nose, ending at his beard, which is pressed against Link's face.

After a moment, Rhett nudges with his nose, and Link twitches, still sensitive, giving a feeble whine. His arms still cling to Rhett's shoulders, and the man feels like a rock, just as hard to move, just as solid and steady. Rhett begins to slowly, softly nuzzle the side of Link's nose.

Rhett's hand travels down Link's side, and he skims the waistline of Link's pants, fingers digging in, inside from the front, and it's a wet mess, and Rhett feels intensely _proud_ most of all, and happy, and he gently fondles Link's soft and still over-sensitive dick. He unzips and shoves down his own jeans, pulls himself out, and slots their hips together close as they can go, moving his hand in uncoordinated pulls and jerks, rubbing himself against Link's softness, spreading the wet proof of his power all over, slicking the way. Link holds onto him and twitches his hips with all he has, which is not much, but it's all for Rhett.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr: [thenthekneehits](http://thenthekneehits.tumblr.com/)


End file.
